Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Prologue

Saturday, March 12th, 2005.

It was a day that would not soon be forgotten by anyone in Britain's magical community. Wizards and witches in Germany were also crushed, asking over and over how such a terrible thing could happen in their beautiful, historic city of Frankfurt.

An utter waste. Two of Britain's most prominent and promising young wizards, neither of them 25 years old, gone. And nothing - nothing - could be done to console either of their widows.

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The harshest cold of the Frankfurt night had nearly passed. Still, heavy sleet blew persistently across the Rhein, so fiercely that anyone who was unfortunate enough to be outdoors would find breathing difficult. Even Apparating had been tricky, but the handful of aurors from the British Ministry of Magic had managed to arrive, unsplinched and apparently unharmed. Not even stopping for an early morning cup of tea, they quickly and efficiently set about doing their job. All of them were quite keen to get this "bloody mess" over with and get out of the country without drawing undue attention to themselves or their purpose.

They were there to question and quite possibly arrest the most famous hero of their world, a 24-year-old wizard named Harry Potter, for a heinous crime, an unthinkable crime. He stood accused of using the Imperius Curse to brutally rape his dear friend of many years, Mrs. Ginevra Weasley Malfoy. She had signed a sworn affidavit of her view of the facts, and she was certain, without a shred of doubt, that it was he who attacked her.

The aurors banged loudly on the door of Mr. Potter's lavish hotel room. Waiting outside for the bolt to unlatch, they fully expected to be admitted by the tenant, and they were - eventually. But he was not as cooperative as they had hoped. Unknown to the law enforcement team, he was not alone; Ginevra's husband, Draco Malfoy, had turned up on the scene shortly before them, intent on settling things with Potter his way.

Instead, Harry Potter had killed him in an instant, by simply outdueling him. Harry had always been a gifted dueler. Draco knew this; he had challenged Potter numerous times during their school days, a time when they were bitter enemies. At the time, young Malfoy, a rich boy with an inferiority complex and insane jealousy of Potter, would either not show up at the appointed time, or when he did, he would usually regret it, frequently being outdone by his rival.

Over the years, however, their relationship had turned from the adversarial nature that had permeated their school days to something akin to . . . well, if not quite friendship, one of mutual respect. They eventually learned to be civil to one another; given their close ties through Draco's new family connections to the Weasleys, and their wide circle of friends, it had proved to be essential. At the Weasley-Malfoy wedding, Draco and Harry met in private, where they agreed to make peace and finally 'bury the hatchet' on their past.

But no longer. On hearing of the vicious and unprovoked attack on his innocent wife, Draco was incensed. The only place he wanted to bury any hatchets was squarely into Harry Potter's famous forehead, and he would not be turned from his task. He intended to snuff the life out of Harry Potter's body, even if it meant life imprisonment for himself. In the heat of the moment, he convinced himself that his reasons were justified; he might even be able to get a reduced or suspended sentence, given the cruel humiliation that Ginny had suffered. And worse yet, she might have conceived a child by that . . that . . . ruthless monster.

This time, he would stop at nothing to get his revenge.

When the aurors finally managed to break through the thick barrier, Draco lay dead on the floor, his gray eyes staring, unseeing, at the ceiling. Harry turned his wand on them, screaming recklessly, "You'll never win, Malfoy!", the madness glowing in his green eyes. They didn't know he was only frightened - cornered like a wild animal - and the experienced auror team felt threatened. A junior auror, thinking Potter had snapped and might kill at random, raised his wand and uttered the killing curse. He was later absolved of any wrongdoing by his superiors, as it was quite clearly a cut-and-dried case of self-defense. No one blamed the young man, not even Hermione Potter.

Mrs. Potter and her one-time best friend Ginevra each went on with their lives. They mourned separately; they grew apart. Barely speaking to one another even at each other's husband's funerals, neither of them was ever the same.